


Sims

by jongincident



Series: Fics Inspired by Songs [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-24 20:48:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22124218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jongincident/pseuds/jongincident
Summary: They meet at a trashy Halloween party downtown.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Park Chanyeol
Series: Fics Inspired by Songs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1507235
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Sims

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "Sims" -- Lauv

Electro-house party music pounds through Chanyeol’s ears, sending vibrations reverberating through his limbs. In front of his eyes, neon flashes blur in with the mesh of questionably-human bodies. While everyone else seems to be enjoying themselves, he tastes bile in the back of his throat as he sees as a slutty dalmation grinds on top of shirtless firefighter. Just a few minutes ago, he witnessed some guy dressed as a cop handcuff a scandalous tomb raider. The sight is  _ disgusting _ . 

He blames Sehun for dragging him here. 

“Come on, at least be my designated driver. You owe me. It’ll be fun!” Sehun promised, and Chanyeol reluctantly agreed—only because he knew that the nagging would not stop otherwise. 

What he stumbled upon was even worse than he imagined. The downtown Halloween party is trashy, and not just in a figurative sense: red solo cups and toilet paper litter the floor, and the cheap stench of alcohol infiltrates every room of the house. Chanyeol wants to get wasted. Then, he could forget, ignore, and live in the moment. But his obligation to Sehun ties him to sobriety; the least he wants is for the both of them to spend the night passed out on a threadbare couch. 

For now, Chanyeol slinks back to a corner where the bright lights don’t penetrate his vision and he can maintain some conscious. Tired of observing the mess around him, he pulls out his phone from his back pocket. Although he is not an avid social media user, he refreshes Snapchat four times before disappointing “sent” icons fill his screen. As expected, all his friends are out, doing who knows what. 

He frowns at the headline on his news app: “United States President Trump could face impeachment inquiries.” Yet another example of the mess of American politics. It’s disappointing, really—

“Hey.” 

Chanyeol sends an annoyed glance at whoever broke his personal bubble. 

“Looks like you don’t want to be here too?” The person—a dude, Chanyeol deduces from the lower voice tones—asks. 

“Sorry, who are you?” Shadows conceal the guy’s face, but Chanyeol is pretty sure they have not met before.

The guy shifts so that the dim lights illuminate his face just enough to be seen. In that moment, Chanyeol’s breath hitches. Fuck. His limbs stiffen and his palms moisten. It’s not that he’s never seen anyone this attractive before. He just chooses not to approach them. The truth is, attractive people intimidate him. Seeing them makes his self-esteem plummet while the disheartening reminder that he is single surges. But here he is, and the guy in front of him could be a model. Platinum hair styled to the right frame the guy’s pale face. Kohl-lined eyes, gray contacts, small silver hoop earrings, and a black dress shirt buttoned too low for Chanyeol’s own good. 

“I’m Baekhyun.” His voice glides like honey. Baekhyun licks his lips, and even in the dark, Chanyeol feels hot. “Want to get a drink?”

Chanyeol swallows thickly and nods, trailing behind Baekhyun as they navigate their way through the maze of bodies. One drink won’t hurt him — he’ll be sober by the time Sehun wants to return home. 

Baekhyun grabs two solo cups of clear liquid and hands one to Chanyeol. Their fingers brush as Chanyeol takes it. He’s already overthinking the situation. 

Chucking his head back, Chanyeol downs it in one go, like how he always does with his liquor. The pungent taste of Vodka burns his throat, but the sweetness of gatorade coaxes his tongue. 

“Sorry, what’s your name again?” Baekhyun asks. 

“Ah, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Chanyeol.” Chanyeol extends out a hand, before pulling it back. “Sorry, I’m so used to interview introductions. Do people even shake hands nowadays?”  _ God _ , he’s rambling now. Shut up, Chanyeol. Shut up. 

“Not really, but no worries,” Baekhyun laughs. Chanyeol swears it sounds like heavenly church bells. “So interviews, huh? What for?”

“I’m trying to get an internship at a film production place. But it’s like all the opening positions suddenly vanished or something.”

“Tell me about it! The banal search for employment infects me with an aneurysm. It was quite guileless of me to expect college to be immediately efficacious.”

Chanyeol stares at Baekhyun with his mouth hanging open. He quickly shuts his mouth when he realizes what he has been doing. He’s never thought of himself as dumb before, but he has no idea what Baekhyun just said. And honestly, it is kind of hot. The way Baekhyun’s lips moved around those complex syllables…

“Sorry, I tend to get caught up in large words when I’m passionate about something,” Baekhyun says shyly. “I was an English major, if you couldn’t tell.” 

“I can tell.” 

They slip into easy conversation after that, words pouring from their lips like a running stream, unable to stay silent. It feels natural. Which is surprising, because usually when Chanyeol talks to hot people, he thinks too much about what his next words will be, and even though he thinks he has it all prepared, what comes out of his mouth is everything but eloquent. With Baekhyun, it feels different. 

Somewhere in their conversation, the alcohol finally hits. Despite Chanyeol’s height, his tolerance is disappointingly low. Words slurring and brain muddled, it gets a little harder to keep up. To clear his head, he shuts his eyes hard. 

When he opens them, the world moves in slow motion. The party music fades along with Baekhyun’s voice, and all Chanyeol sees is the former’s pink tongue flicking out to lick his lips. Baekhyun has a mole above the left corner of his lip, and another on the center of his left cheek. His shirt shifts, revealing pale, sharp collar bones. Goddamn, he’s so unbelievably attractive. 

The urge to kiss him — to press their mouths together and take his bottom lip between Chanyeol’s own teeth — takes over Chanyeol’s control system. But Chanyeol knows he can’t. It’s the first time they’ve met, they have been talking for hardly half an hour, and they’re standing in the middle of an intoxicated mess of people — it just isn’t appropriate. 

If only they weren’t at some trashy Halloween party downtown. Chanyeol wishes that they could be elsewhere, anywhere but here. 

Perhaps they could have met while strolling through the Museum of Modern Art. As Chanyeol gazes at the vibrant splashes of color, trying to make out some deeper meaning behind the paint strokes, Baekhyun would come up to him and ask, “So what do you think?” He would make something up, throw in a few film terminology and pray that Baekhyun wouldn’t be able to catch the bullshit tumbling out his mouth. 

Or, they could have met some other night in the future, when both of them have reached a certain level of acclaim within their respective fields. Maybe they are assigned to sit next to each other at an award event. They would tune out everyone’s superficial small talk. Instead they would discuss their current projects, engage in an electric argument over the superiority of film or literature, and end the night with a promise of a collaboration. 

Chanyeol wishes that they lived on a VHS. Then, he could erase his mistakes. Cut out every time his words twist into a jumble. Hit rewind every time his eyes lock with Baekhyun’s, breath hitching, heart pounding. Relive those fleeting moments. 

That would have been useful. When Baekhyun interrupts Chanyeol’s daydreaming, claiming that it’s getting late and he needs to get going, Chanyeol lets him leave. Chanyeol is so intoxicated that he forgets to ask for a number, for a way to contact. 

He wishes that they lived in The Sims. At least then, he wouldn’t have let Baekhyun slip away. 

***

Chanyeol reads the paintings’ description:

‘Claude Monet

_ Water Lilies _

1914-1926

Medium: Oil on canvas, three panels. 

At this triptych’s center, lilies bloom in a luminous pool of green and blue that is frothed with lavender-tinged reflections of clouds. Thick strokes in darker shades seep into the left panel, while on the right, sky and water are gently swallowed by an expanse of reddish-green vegetation. The dense composition hovers at the threshold of abstraction, its lack of horizon creating an effect of total immersion.’

“So, what do you think?” asks a voice that glides like honey.


End file.
